Can't Save Myself
by Luvingtheshadowhunters
Summary: 14 year old Sam Winchester knows only one way to deal with his new found hatred of himself. Moving around all the time, never being as good as his brother left him lost. He just knows that he has to fix himself before his family gives up on him; before everyone did. Warnings! Eating disorders, self harm, suicidal thoughts! Wee!chesters
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: Haven't written in a while, hope it's not to bad haha. First Supernatural fic, the chapters are named after songs. Keep in mind the warnings mentioned in the description. Enjoy!_

 **Can't Save Myself – As it is**

A single breath (in empty lungs)

That's all I got left (gasping for air)

And a bad idea branded in my brain I can't seem to shake

Dad comes in followed closely by Dean who was clutching the grease stained bag they had left to get fifteen minutes earlier. Inside it lye three cheese burgers, two with extra onions, one with only lettuce on it. On top of those are two large containers of French fries. I didn't want any of the grease soaked potatoes so nothing else besides, knowing Dean, tons of ketchup and mayo joined the burger in the bag.

"Eat quickly, we have to be out of here in twenty," Their father announces. As Dean plops into his seat obediently, digging in, I take my time. By the time I've settled and have unwrapped my food, Dean is half way through his burger; their father has eaten about as many fries. I first tear my food in half, then in quarters. Dean notices this, biting his lip.

"You need to eat Sam, you haven't eaten much today." "Not that hungry," I shrug. "Sam," he looks at me sternly. For a while now, my eating habits had begun to become mildly unhealthy. It's not that I didn't want to eat, or even that I wasn't hungry. More I couldn't bring myself to. Not since a few weeks ago, when a comment from Dad made me permanently sick to my stomach.

"Damn Sammy, slow down. No wonder you couldn't keep up with us today." I had dropped the fry I'd been eating, cheeks flushing, looking up in time to see Dean shoot a look at Dad but not say anything. I had always had minor self-image problems, probably because of the occasional snipe like that from my Dad, not that'd I'd ever admit to it. That last comment had only fueled the fire, leading to me finally snapping and avoiding food all together, especially in front of Dad the last few weeks.

At first no one had said anything about my new eating habits. And I took that as a sign I was doing right and kept going. It felt good to not have my Dad up my ass about it constantly. Though since a week ago, when I had almost passed out while training, Dean had been paying more attention. Asking what I'd eaten that day, if I'd like to go get a burger with him.

I have to admit the short fainting spell had freaked me out a little bit. I'd heard of people who didn't eat enough dying of heart failure. But I chalked it up to not eating at all before hand, and vowed to have at least an apple on the days we hunted or trained.

"Sam," Dean repeats, breaking me out of my thoughts. "Eat." I shake my head, wondering why he was so set on this. I was just trying to fix an obvious problem. I couldn't have them getting killed cause they were trying to protect or waiting for my fat ass. "I said I'm not hungry Dean, here if you're worried about wasting it, you eat it."

Dean shakes his head, exasperated. "That's not what I'm worried about!" "Dean, enough," Their father finally cuts in. "But D-" I'm surprised when he goes to argue. He almost never argues with Dad, perfect little soldier till the end. If only I could be more like Dean.

"Enough! If he says he's not hungry, he's not hungry." Dad gives me an approving look, one of the few I'd received from him in my life. Dean goes quiet as expecting, eating the rest of his burger quite aggressively. He was mad at me.

I sigh internally, no matter what I did, someone wasn't happy with me. I wrap up my destroyed food, putting it back in the bag before leaving without another word. "Make sure your stuff is together, we're leaving soon," Dad calls. I just nod to signal I'd heard.

Another school, another motel, rundown apartment if they were lucky. I'd make a few friends, Dean would have two or three girlfriends, four if he was quick about it. Then after a month, when the next ghost or werewolf or other supernatural being was killed, they'd move on and leave everyone behind. Start fresh, a new last to remember another town in their rear view mirror.

Seeing as no one was in here, I sigh aloud this time. Normal. That was all I asked for. Was it to much? Did God see it as his mission to make me completely miserable? I throw the last of my belongings in to my falling apart suit case and plop down on the bed to stare at the ceiling one last time. And just as all the times before lately, the second I let my thoughts wonder, everything I do wrong comes to the forefront of my mind. I analyze my moves, trying to figure out how I can be better.

I flinch as I realize again how much of a screw up I am. Couldn't I do anything right? Seems like since I made the decision to eat less, I'd fallen into a hole. Depression had slowly grabbed me, followed by anxiety. I sometimes wondered if all this was even worth being skinny but reminded myself it was. As the anxiety grew worse, I tripped and stumbled in crowded places as I tried look anywhere but at people. I pulled at my shirt, feeling like everyone was staring. I'd earned a few snaps from my Dad for these suspicious behaviors and some concerned looks from my brother.

I shook my head, shifting my arm to cover my face, but as I did some cut me. I look down and realized I'd missed one of the hunting knives. Yet another thing I couldn't do, remember to get everything. As I looked, I realized my arm stung, a small trail of blood flowing out of the cut. It fascinated me slightly, the pain numbing me slightly to my previous thoughts. Distracting me from the deep hatred I'd recently accumulated from myself. It was bliss.

Suddenly Dean peaked in, bag slung over his shoulder. "Time to go." I nod, jumping up, feeling guilty even though I hadn't exactly done anything wrong. The cut wasn't that bad, I doubt Dean can even see it. But what if I cut deeper? Would that make the feeling that came with this cut even better? I grit my teeth, exasperated with myself for even thinking like that. Cut my self? I'm crazier than I thought.

"Sammy?" Dean says worriedly. I snap out of it, looking at Dean. "What?" "You coming?" It takes me a moment to realize I should nod. "Yeah, yeah Im coming." Dean nods, giving me a strange look I couldn't place. "Okay, well hurry up. Dad will be getting impatient." I nod again and Dean leaves after looking at me a second longer.

I look once more at the cut before stuffing the hunting knife in my bag and walking out the door. I'll think about this more later. I put my bag in the trunk, Dad tapping his fingers on the steering wheel all the while shoot daggers at me. Obviously I'd token to long for him. I slide in the back seat, leaning my head against the window and settling in for the long ride. I could swear I saw Dean look back at me a few times, but drift off to sleep before I can know for sure.


	2. Chapter 2

Animal I Have Become – 3 days Grace

Somebody help me through this nightmare  
I can't control myself  
Somebody wake me from this nightmare  
I can't escape this hell

I wake from my troubled sleep when I hear a door slam. Rubbing my eyes, I see that they were stopped at a gas station. Neon numbers shining on the dashboard inform me that it's ten P.M. Which means I'd slept for ten hours. Dean looks back, apparently noticing I'm awake.

"Good, you're awake. I thought you'd died," Dean shakes his head, grinning. "Dad's paying for the gas and getting us something to eat. We arnt gonna stop again till late tomorrow afternoon." I nod, opening the car door. "Where are you going?" "Bathroom," I smirk at Dean. "Why, did you wanna come?" Dean rolls his eyes, but doesn't respond.

I head to the bathroom, seeing my Dad at the cash register holding some sodas, poptarts, a few hotdogs and some water bottles. I grimace. How would I get out of eating in a car where there was nowhere to escape to and no saying I ate earlier? I try to push the thought away and continued on to the bathroom.

I stand in front of the mirror a few minutes later, washing my hands and face. Despite the long sleep in the car, dark circles underlined my eyes, my face seeming paler. I look away unable to face my own appearance.

Such a trivial thing to worry about as a hunter, yet it was starting to seem like a bigger deal. Of course being skinny wasn't the only reason I stopped eating. Nor was pleasing my Dad.

I'd never controlled anything about my life. Not where we lived, or who I talked to, or what I did. But how much I ate, how much I weighed. That was all me. Completely my decision and no one elses.

I leave the bathroom, going back to the car. Dad was putting the gas nozzle back on the hook and Dean was taking a sip of a coke. I slide in the back seat. "Here," Dean tosses me a water bottle, knowing my recent distaste for soda. "Thanks," I smile as genially as I can. Dean looks at me a moment, obviously calculating something. "You okay?"

I nod quickly, worried he was catching onto everything. "Fine. Why?" "Nothing," Dean shakes his head. Of course he wouldn't start a chic flic moment if he didn't have to. "Hot dog?" The tone of his voice suggested it wasn't an offer. Either I was eating that hotdog or Dean was stuffing it down my throat.

"Yeah thanks." I take the hotdog from him, my hand shaking a bit. Despite that Dean smiles and turns to eat his own. A few minutes later he's done and they were pulling out of the gas station parking lot. My uneaten hotdog still sat in my lap and I didn't know what to do with it. I couldn't eat that.

Dean glances back, slight annoyance finally flashing in his eyes as he sees that I hadnt eaten. "Dammit Sam, eat the hotdog." "Dean-" "No. Do it." I bite my lip. Dad glanced back at me, curious as to what I was gonna do next.

Anger sparks through me. What the hell did they think this was, freak show convention? Eyes on the road. "Fine," I snap, taking the hot dog out of the bun and taking a bite of it. Dean watches me till I'd eaten at least half of it. Satisfied, he turns around and settles into his seat. I set the hotdog down, wiping the grease on my fingers on my jeans. I felt sick to my stomach. How could I eat that? All my work was probably done for now.

I berate myself the rest of the ride, Eye of the tiger coming through the speakers at one point. I try to tune out the music, despising it even more than usual today.

Dean had gotten about an hour more sleep in before at midnight he and Dad switched places. Dad was asleep almost instantly. He and Dean seemed to share that gift, while I could toss and turn for hours sometimes before finally falling asleep.

I having slept all day, looked the window at the passing trees. All was silent except for the quite sounds of Kansas coming through the radio.

"Sammy?" Dean suddenly says. I meet eyes with him in the mirror, his green eyes clearly troubled. "Yeah?" "What's going on with you man?" Looking at him I could tell this wasn't random, it must have been bothering for a while. And I wish I could tell him. Everything. Just like we used to do when we were younger.

But things were different now. And there was no going back. No way he could tell Dean –this-. So I shake my head. "Nothing. Seriously dude, I'm fine." I see frustration on Dean's face. "Then why aren't you eating? Why do you barely talk to me anymore?"

"I am eating," I say defensively. Unfortunately, I add in my head. "Half a hotdog in two days doesn't count." I ignore him continuing. "And we do talk, we're talking right now." He doesn't look convinced in the least and I don't blame him. Cause he was hitting everything spot on, just like always.

I didn't really talk to him anymore. Or Dad, not that we talked much before. Because I know if I did, they would definitely tell something was wrong, more than just being a stubborn teenager. And I couldn't bare it if they made me start eating. Watched me so closely, I'd never be able to try out my new found escape.

"Sam.." Dean sighs after a moment. "Just.. you know I'm here for if you need me right?" I nod, I knew that. I always had. "I know Dean." "Good." I grin, trying to lighten the mood. "Chic flic moment over?" Dean doesn't look to amused, but rolls his eyes regardless. "Yeah, chic flic moment over."

It's silent the rest of the ride and the only time they talk after that is so Dean confirms I've eaten a few bites of my poptart. Dean and Dad having switch off again around noon, Dad pulls into a small apartment complex around five. He switches off the car.

"Okay boys, lets unpack. We'll get a few hours sleep, grab a burger then start researching the new hunt a little bit more. Two killings, both girls between the ages of sixteen and twenty- five-" I tune the rest out, knowing I'd have to read up on it at least fifty times tonight before Dad was satisfied.

We unpack our things quicky, Dad showing us where he was hiding the spare key, before I fall into bed. The last thing my conscious mind registers is Dean climbing into his bed a little ways away. I just hope I can hide this from him a while longer. I know that sounds screwed up, but I was starting to come with terms that was just who I was. There was just no saving me from the animal I had become.


End file.
